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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427409">Ichor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dakarima/pseuds/Dakarima'>Dakarima</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hellsing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:22:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,077</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dakarima/pseuds/Dakarima</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hello hello hello! It’s very kind of you to drop by wanting to read this. I recently re-watched the Hellsing OVA series and blasted my way through the manga as well. I wanted to write a continuation from where the manga/anime ends with my own OC. This is probably something no one asked for, but I can’t help myself. I try to do my research, making characters as believable as possible, however, I am not so deep into the lore about Hellsing that I will probably screw up, so I am sorry for this. Please do let me know so I can correct it for later use.</p>
<p>I might as well let you know now that it will contain some dark stuff. As of when I am writing this, nothing special has really happened, but I will put a warning before every chapter so you are aware.</p>
<p>I do hope you enjoy my writing. Any feedback is most welcome and again, thank you for dropping by.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>No Warning.</p>
<p>Just wanna say right off the bat. Not 100% sure where this story will go. I don't want to spoil either, because I have some idea, but don't trust me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>I sat on the floor, frozen in time. My hands and knees were covered in thick black liquid – still warm. It was dark, only moonlight gazed through the windows. It smelled like metal, like rust oozing deep into my nostrils. Our front door opened and a huge black figure loomed in the door. It covered its mouth and gagged. “Holy fucking shit.”</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My bottom lip is caught in my teeth as I intently study the history books spread out in front of me. The desk is overflown with books and papers, full of scribbles and thoughts. I scratch my temple with the pen in my hand and flick the page over.</p>
<p>So much chaos and destruction, it’s hard to believe it all happened only 31 years ago. Yes, it’s longer than I have lived, yet it seems like today’s society is flourished and it never really happened. Some has even gone so far to claim it as a hoax, but those idiots have obviously not done their research.</p>
<p>My fascination with it begun early. The thought of a war occurring only in London is hard to believe, even though many just calls it a bullet exchange. The blood soaking the streets of London, vampires slaughtering humans, bombs, fire and bullets. It sends a shiver down my spine.</p>
<p>I flick the page again and is met with a picture of a tall, blond, long haired woman staring right at me. Her blue eyes is piercing right through my soul and catches me by surprise. My eyes drags down to the name scribed under the picture; <strong>Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing</strong>. A beautiful woman who was/is the master of Alucard the Vampire.</p>
<p>I have heard Alucard had returned about a year ago, surprising everyone with his presence. The Hellsing organisation grew back, although not to its former glory, and continues to protect Britain’s shores from all kinds of monsters and creatures. Humans can feel safe again, knowing they are protected.</p>
<p>I scribble down some more notes before closing the book. I lean back in my chair and take a sip from my coffee. The bitter dark liquid going down my throat, leaving a warm trail behind as I enjoy the quiet the library gives me. It is hard to wrap my head around the fact that this library is barely older than me, yet they chose to build it as a replica of the old library. So much was lost during the bombing, old treasures that were stored here in little London, now perished because a mad-man wanted a war against a single vampire – Alucard.</p>
<p>I scramble together all the books, stuff all my notes in my backpack and pick up the books. I make my way down the seemingly endless rows of bookshelves, to the section containing history books. One by one I place the books neatly back in place. I slide in the last book and turn to walk back down the row when I notice a tall figure covered in a long coat and his face covered by the top collar and a low placed cap. I stop in my tracks, staring at this dark figure piercing his gaze through me. I narrow my eyes at it and begin to walk forward. As I am halfway down the row, the figure steps to the right and away from my view. I jog down the corridor and look right, but there is no one there. I turn the corner to look down the other corridor of bookshelves, but there is no one there either. I furrow my brows, wondering who that could have been. I shrug and make my way out of the library, feeling a prickling at the back of my neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The streets are filled with people rushing about and the sky is grey and threatens to start up a small rainfall. I zip up my jacket and slide into the moving crowds down the street. I fish for my earbuds, press them gently into my ears and turn up the music to <em>Do I Wanna Know, </em>walking in the same beat as the music. I find myself morphed with the anonymous people I walk with, like a wheat field waving in the wind.</p>
<p>I wonder how many of these people are aware of what happened 31 years ago. After so many people died, the average age in London is now 34, which is both fascinating and terrifying at the same time. I wonder if any of these people I find myself surrounded by, has even noticed the fact that there are mostly young people in this city.</p>
<p>I stop at the edge of the road, waiting for the light to turn green. More people crowd around and I look over to a young couple hugging each other on the other side of the street. They look happy and oblivious. I roll my eyes at them, feeling a slight tingle of jealousy. My eyes drift to the right and the dark figure from the library looms on the other side.</p>
<p>My jaw drops as I notice a pair of grey eyes under the low dark cap. My eyes are fixated on the dark figure and I can’t help but realise that no one else seem to notice it. Is it my imagination? I look around, no one has spotted the figure towering above everyone else. It would be hard not to notice it. I look back at the figure and step towards it.</p>
<p>A car horn blares out. Tires screech. I am tug back. I trip in the same motion as I am tugged and fall on my back. The sound of people chatting indistinctly fills my ears as people rush around me. I feel slightly dizzy, my heart pounding against my chest. A young lady kneels down beside me.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” She asks. I stare at her, no words come out of me.<br/>I look around before getting up to my feet, seeking out the silver eyes I had seen. Nothing. No eyes and no tall figure. <em>What the hell?</em> For a moment, time stands still.</p>
<p>The green man appears on the streetlight. Before anyone has even noticed the change of light, I rush across the road to the spot I had seen the figure. Not a trace of it anywhere. <em>It must be my imagination.</em> I try to convince myself, but my gut feels doubt of what my head tries to persuade me with. I shake my head. <em>Am I going mad?</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I walk down the long hallway of the rebuilt estate of the Hellsing organisation. What was once a top-secret property, has now opened their doors to the public for people to get trained in combat, weapon handling and knowledge about dark creatures.</p><p>Sir Integra Hellsing know that when she passes away, there will be no one to truly lead the Hellsing organisation, except the government. This was her way of making sure the Hellsing legacy would continue – by opening a sort of school for people to become hunters. I had taken some time to learn how to become a hunter, and apparently, only a few were selected. The criteria – have a specific set of skills one could only be born with.</p><p>A set of double doors are open, and inside are people fencing. I note one of the people watching, dressed in a burgundy red uniform with a red writhing mass as her left arm – Seras Victoria. I have read about her, the second human to have been turned by Alucard. She was only 19 years old when she was turned. She had a tragic past and a hard upbringing. Now she was head vampire and the one to train the new hunters.</p><p>I watch as two people fence with grace. It’s almost a dance, but one of them is clumsier than the other. The footwork is almost to perfection and the movement like calm waves on the ocean. The fencing ends and they pull off their masks and one of them is revealed to be Integra herself. I look in awe as her long white hair flow down her slim body and her right eye shimmer in the bright ceiling light.</p><p>“Well done, Oliver, but you need to work more on your defence.” She points out as she shifts her weight to one side. “I believe you have quite the potential.” She adds before her eyes meet mine. I keep her gaze locked with mine, letting her know I am here for her. She gives me a slight nod. She turns to Seras. “Keep them training. I will be right back.” Integra makes her way over to me, assess my presence before gesturing me to follow her.</p><p>We walk in silence down the hallway until we finally enter a room to the left.</p><p>The room is open and high ceiling. The back wall has huge fixed windows, letting in the grey light from outside. In the left corner is dark red chesterfield couches, with a dark oak coffee table placed in front decorated with a bouquet of flowers. In the right corner is a small bar filled with all kinds of liquor and crystal glasses. The walls are decorated with huge framed paintings of different historical figures. In the middle of the room is a long dark wood executive desk with a lamp, a landline phone, papers neatly stacked, pens placed in order and a silver box with cigars. Behind the desk is a dark green executive chair.</p><p>Integra makes her way to the desk, places her mask on top and sit down in the chair. I walk over to the desk and wait patiently while she reaches for her cigar box. She pulls out a thin and brown cigar, places it between her thin lips, light it up with a golden lighter and inhales deeply. She breathes out the light grey smoke while taking in my form.</p><p>I feel her eyes etch into my skin, making me want to spit out words at her, but I know she is a respectable woman with high standards. It took me three years to get this interview and I am not planning on screwing this up.</p><p>The silence linger between us uncomfortably as she takes another drag from the cigar. The smoke makes me want to cough, but I supress it. She turns the chair a little, leans back and crosses her legs as she lets the cigar rest between her lips. Her eyelids are heavy, not from lack of sleep, but from the fact that she knows she can somewhat relax in this room.</p><p>“You’re from the London History Chronicle.” She says as she finally drags her eyes away from me. She looks absentmindedly at one of the paintings hanging on the wall. “You’ve been nagging me for the past three years for this interview. Why?” She adds and continues to look at the painting.</p><p>Nagging her? I mean, yes I have tried desperately to get this interview, but nagging you is a bit too far. And I have never been in direct contact with you, but rather your new housekeeper; Stella Cherrier.</p><p>I scan the side of her face. A brown patch covering her left eye from a gunshot wound that made her go blind on that eye. I can see a thin line of a scar peeking from below her patch. It must have been one hell of a shot, yet I have a feeling she didn’t even flinch. That’s the kind of woman Integra is, hard, unfaced, strong, relentless, cold and deadly. I know she could stare death in the eye and still not bat an eye.</p><p>“I have been studying and reading about what happened in London 31 years ago.” I begin to explain. “I even wrote I master thesis on the events. I want to ask y…”</p><p>“It was nothing more than just an exchange of bullets.” She cuts in, still not looking at me.</p><p>I bite my tongue. <em>So she is one of them.</em> “<em>Just </em>an exchange of bullets? I am sure the bill for rebuilding the whole of London would disagree with you, Sir Hellsing.” I lean my weight on one leg as I cross my arms. It makes her turn her head towards me. She looks at my posturing, she seems to dislike it. “I am also sure the three million people who died that night would also disagree with you.”</p><p>She narrows her eyes at me, before a smirk grows on her lips. She shifts in her seat, leans forward on her desk with her fingers intertwined. “I like you, what is your name?”</p><p>My eyes widen at her remark. <em>She likes me?</em> I felt rather cocky spitting those facts out, showing off my knowledge. I just spat at her and she likes me? I let my arms hang down to my sides and I straighten up. “I am Alessa.” I introduce myself.</p><p>She leans bank in her chair and take another deep drag from her cigar. “How much do you know of what happened 31 years ago?”</p><p>I scan her face. Is this a test or an actual question? Besides, I thought it was I who were going to ask the questions. “I know everything that is available in writing plus the rumours and fairy tales.” I begin to explain.</p><p>“And how do you know the distinction between what is true and not?”</p><p>“I go with my gut, my knowledge and what seems reasonable. I hardly believe there were actual angels during the battle, but rather the image of angels because of Iscariot the papal knights joined the battle on their helicopters. I also heard dragons interfered in al of this too, but I mean…” I glance at her grin as I speak. “Vampires and werewolves, that’s okay, but dragons? That’s a bit too far.”</p><p>“You would be surprised.”</p><p>I let out a gasp at her remark. My eyebrows shoot up as I stare at her questioning.</p><p>“But you are correct, no dragons exists. At least to our knowledge. Now you seem like a person who has a great deal of knowledge about what happened and more than enough information to write an article, so why are you here?” She places her cigar in the ashtray and leans forward on her elbows.</p><p>“I am here because I want to hear from someone who saw it all. Who was in the middle of it. Yes, there are some corrupted videos available, but you are the only human, as far as I am aware of, who saw and experienced everything.” I explain. She raises an eyebrow at me and I once again cross my arms in front of me. “And who is still alive.” I add.</p><p>She smirks at me. “Well then, Alessa. Please go ahead with your interview.”</p><p>I pull my backpack off, pull out my notes and my phone to record the interview. “I hope you don’t mind.” I show her my phone and she shakes her head. I start the recorder on my phone, places it on the desk and look at my notes.</p><p>I clear my throat. “When the vampire attacks leading up to the reveal of the Millennium, did you ever think it would be linked to something greater than just some random vampire attacks?”</p><p>“I had my suspicions, but vampire attacks are not that uncommon, we are just good at hiding it and cleaning up before anyone else sticks their noses in it. We know that humans are not strong enough or equipped with knowledge about vampires that they can fend for themselves, which is why we stepped up from the start. Wasting human lives and sacrificing them as ghouls is a fait I wouldn’t send upon anyone.” Her eyes fall to my phone and there is a twitch at the corner of her right eye. “The police has no knowledge or equipment to fight off vampires or ghouls for that matter. Which is why it is crucial Hellsing is the first to know about these kinds of attacks.”</p><p>“It this why you have opened up to the public to train new people?”</p><p>She looks up at me. “Yes. I have realised that family run businesses is a thing of the past. When I pass away, the government will take over. I know Seras will do a fine job leading everyone, but I don’t know what will happen to Alucard, as there are no heir to the Hellsing family.”</p><p>“What do you think will happen to him?” I am intrigued to know what she thinks. Her head must be filled with the most wonderful things imaginable, both dark and light.</p><p>“Who knows. Alucard is the most powerful being to ever exist and without a master, he might go rogue, find a new purpose, find a master within the government or clench his thirst for whatever is going on inside his mind.” She sighs out. “All I know is that the government will take over the Hellsing organisation and it is my duty to make sure the standard of our hunters are the best.”</p><p>I nod in agreement. I wonder how England would be without the Hellsing to protect us. Who knows how many creatures they’ve kept at bay by just existing.</p><p>“I read that you gave the command to Alucard to release all his powers, did you know what it entailed? From what I read about it; every soul he has ever consumed was released from his coffin and fought alongside him. It was described as a sea of dead souls.”</p><p>Integra lets out a chuckle and it somewhat takes me by surprise. “I knew what it entailed, but I had never seen it before. It was quite the sight. To see his raw power unleashed upon this world was almost frightening.”</p><p>I raise my eyebrows. Integra, scared? Sounds impossible based on everything I had read about her. She was calculated, strong and fearless. If she was somewhat frightened, who knows what everyone else felt.</p><p>“I remember as soon as my command slipped my lips, everyone, from all sides, attacked him. The Nazis and the Iscariot. They could feel the annihilation was about to wash over all of them. Their lives snuffed in a flash.”</p><p>“What did it make you feel to know you commanded such powers?”</p><p>She leans back in her chair and locks gaze with me. I notice she is chewing her inner cheek. “Responsible.” Is the only word slipping out of her.</p><p>My jaw lowers slightly as I am stunned not to hear the word <strong>powerful</strong> come out of her.</p><p>“I feel responsible for every innocent life lost during that night. This <em>war</em> begun because Alucard exists. I believe that if it happens once, it can happen again.” Her eye lower and I sense a hint of sadness. “And I don’t know which state Alucard is in now, considering what happened 31 years ago.”</p><p>“What?” I gasp and take a step closer to the desk. I can see she realise the last sentence was not meant for my ears. “What do you mean by state? What happened?” I ask desperately.</p><p>The stands up. “This interview is over.” She declares and press a button on her landline phone.</p><p>Within a second, a woman dressed in a black dress with a white apron – the housekeeper – enters the room. “Stella, please escort Miss Alessa out of the estate.” Integra commands with a calm voice.</p><p>I sigh, letting her know I dislike her decision to just throw me out. I reach for my phone, end the recording and put everything back in my bag. “Safe travels home, Alessa.” I reluctantly follow Stella out of the massive building.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: Language, mention of sexual abuse, hint of murdering</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>“The police wants to interrogate her.” … “She’s just a child, they can’t interrogate her now. She just went through the most traumatic experience anyone can imagine.” … “What are you colouring sweetheart?” … “She hasn’t spoken a word since they found her.” … “Does she have any family?” … “Not a suitable one. Her uncle was charged with molesting her two years ago.” … “Fucking hell!” … “Foster care then.” … “What a lovely colour you chose for your drawing.” … “Poor girl, she must be fucked up in her head.” … “Shh… she can hear you.” … “Doesn’t matter, she will forget this by next week. She’s too screwed to remember anything of this by the time she grows up.”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I unlock the door to my apartment and walk in. I throw my jacket and bag on a chair in the corner and make my way into the kitchen to get something to drink. As I enter the kitchen, a small package is waiting for me on the countertop. I freeze in my tracks and stare at the small brown box with a white card on top. I keep my eyes locked at it as my heart thumps against my chest. <em>What the fuck?</em></p><p>I rush into my bedroom, throw myself down on my knees and pull out my trusty Glock 19x I have fastened under my bed. I check the magazine and rack the slide. My years of training with Carter, local policeman and best friend, is going to pay off.</p><p>I stand up and check my bedroom first, the closet, the window and behind the door. Nothing. I continue around the apartment, one room at a time, tip toeing around with the gun held high, my finger resting on the side of the chill material of the gun. As I search around, I feel my heart is beating insanely fast and all I want to do is to run, but I know that won’t do.</p><p>I can’t find any sign of an intrusion and make my way to the kitchen again with the Glock in hand. I pick up the small white card and read it.</p><p> </p><p>If curiosity killed the cat,</p><p>it was satisfaction that brought it back.</p><p> </p><p>I furrow my brows as I stare at the card. Nothing is signed. I place the card down and open the box. My eyebrows shoot up when I see what’s inside.</p><p>My phone rings. I jump and tumble back. I grab hold of the ledge of the countertop to keep my balance. “Fuckin’ hell.” I curse out as I try to stuff my heart down in my chest again. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and answer the phone. “Alessa.”</p><p>“’Ey Alessa, it’s Carter. You okay?” The familiar voice makes me smile.</p><p>“Yes, I am good, just startled me.” I try to laugh it off as I stroll into the living room.</p><p>“Sorry about that. I just wanted to see if you would like to grab some dinner tonight and watch a movie.” He asks.</p><p>I look out the window of my living room and down on the streets below. As I open my mouth I hear his police radio go off. A female mumble through the radio.</p><p>“10-4, go ahead dispatch.” Carter replies. More mumbling from the radio. “10-9 please.” More mumbling. I can’t catch a single word. “Roger, 10-49, over. Hey Alessa, I gotta go, rain check on that dinner, alright?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Alright, talk to you later.”</p><p>“Bye.” I hang up and sigh out in relief. “Thank god. I really need some time to myself. I have an article to write out as well.” I say to myself as I realise I am still holding my Glock. I shake my head and place the gun on my coffee table and walk back into the kitchen.</p><p>I walk over to the counter and reach into the box. I pull out an old, taupe and worn notebook. It has a simplified eagle with spread wings on the cover and with scribbles of what I believe to be German. I flick open the book and let my eyes float across the German writing. I have no idea what it all means, but I feel a bubble of determination build within me; I need to find out. But before I do this, I need to find out who sent me this, and more importantly, how the hell it ended up in my kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>I open my laptop and begin to work on my article while listening to the interview I had with Integra. I didn’t feel the anticipated intimidation I expected from her. She was calm, and yes it was somewhat uncomfortable, but it was a rather pleasant experience. I wouldn’t mind having another interview with her, but considering it took me three years to get this one and the way she threw me out today, I don’t expect to be invited in quite some time. It didn’t matter though, I finally got what I wanted and my full article, that I have been working on for about five years, is coming to a completion. Some more research should tie everything neatly together.</p><p>The unknown book I got today is prickling the back of my mind. I have a feeling it is tied to everything that happened 31 years ago. I should have a readthrough before I decide to hand in my work to the editor. My initial plan was to have this published at the 30<sup>th</sup> anniversary, but I was too desperate to have an interview included, I chose not to publish it.</p><p>As I tap away on my computer, I keep glancing over at the notebook beside me. The curiosity within me slowly eating me up. I chew on my bottom lip as I stare at the book. It has to have been from the occurrence from 31 years ago, what else could it be? But how did it end up here? In my kitchen? Who sent it to me? Could it have been Integra who sent it? As an apology for suddenly pushing me out? No, that doesn’t sound like a thing she would do. Perhaps it was Carter, he knows I live for this stuff. But how would he get his hands on this?</p><p>I furrow my brow and dart my eyes back and forth between my laptop and the notebook. <em>Fuck it.</em> I grab the book and begin to translate whatever is on the cover as well as the content of the book. Trusty Google Translate is handy to have in this dire time.</p><p>As I flick through the pages, slowly translating each sentence, I come across pictures that seems older than 30 years, almost 90 years old if I am to estimate.</p><p>One of the pictures is of short and plump man in a Nazi uniform. Behind him stands taller men in the same uniform. They are all wearing the SS officer caps. I shudder at the picture, feeling my whole body squirm inwardly. I flick the picture over and see a small note scribbled down in black ink.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Die Schutzstaffel</em>
  </strong>
  <strong>, SS-Standartenführer, </strong>
  <strong>SS-Obersturmbannführer, SS-Hauptsturmführer und SS-Sturmbannführer, 1942</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I flip the picture back again and gloss over the faces staring back at me. I shake my head and place the picture back in the book and flip the page. I feel unease as I continue to look through the notebook. I have never felt like this before. Usually I feel excitement whenever I have an opportunity to learn something new, but this book, these notes and pictures makes me feel… what does it make me feel? Disgusted? Ill? Gross? So many words, but not enough to truly explain my feelings towards this newfound knowledge.</p><p>I close the book and get up from the chair in the living room. I make my way to the kitchen to finally get the glass of water I initially wanted earlier. I lean on the counter as I take a sip from the glass. <em>Maybe I should call Carter. Just to thank him for the book.</em> I nod to myself and return to the living room and pick up my phone. I dial Carter’s number and wait to rings before he picks up.</p><p>“Sup, Alessa.” He answers.</p><p>“Hey, I just wanted to thank you for the book you sent me.”</p><p>He doesn’t answer and I hear the recognisable sound of a gun cock.</p><p>“Am I calling at a bad time?” I ask walking over to the window. The sun is already gone behind the horizon. I must have lost track of time while reading the notebook.</p><p>“Uhm…” He draws it out slowly and silently. “No, not really. Just a small routine control of an abandoned shack. Call of some disturbances. It’s probably the old racoon again.” He chuckles. I shift my weight, uneasy spreads within me.</p><p>“How did you get it to my kitchen? I don’t believe you have a key to my apartment.”</p><p>“Get what to the kitchen?”</p><p>“The book.”</p><p>“What book?” He sounds confused as his mind is occupied.</p><p>“The book you se…”</p><p>“Hold on…” He interrupts me and I feel my ear sharpen in on the sounds in the phone. “What the…” I can hear a door creak open. I furrow my brows as I listen intently. “Holy fuck!” Five gunshots. Screaming. Carter! In a reflex I jolt my phone away from my ear. “Fucking god! Help!” Carter scream from the other end.</p><p>“Carter?” I ask as I hear his screaming. “Carter!” I yell out. I hear ripping and gurgling before the line cuts. I stare blankly at the phone. <em>CARTER!</em> I hastily redial his number and chew on my bottom lip as I wait for it to be picked up.</p><p>Eleven rings. It’s picked up. “Carter! What happened?” I frantically ask as I shuffle back and forth in the living room. “Carter?” I call out his name, a hint of uncertainty lingers behind. All I can hear is breathing. “Ca-carter?”</p><p>“Curiosity killed the cat.”</p><p>My eyes shoot open in horror. <em>Who the fuck is that?</em> It was a silvery male voice. Not Carter’s. Even though it sounded like a threat, I couldn’t help the slight tingle in my ear as his words reached my ear.</p><p>Before I can utter a word, the call is hung up. When I try to call back, no one picks up. “Fuck… Carter…” I breathe out as I cover my mouth. “What the fuck do I do?” I pace back and forth in my apartment. <em>Fuck fuck fuck… Carter… What the fuck do I do?</em> I flick through my phones and open up my Buddy app. I touch Carter’s icon on my phone. His last location is still available. <em>Don’t worry Carter. I am on my way.</em></p>
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